


half

by cecelestial



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Androids, Denial of Feelings, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecelestial/pseuds/cecelestial
Summary: “Aren’t you goin’ to that, uh, android thing or whatever the fuck it is?” Hank asked, suddenly curious.Connor looked wistful.“No, I don’t think I’ll be going.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i thought about this while i was chillin' outside. the ending makes me >:3c but also hurts my tiny, gay heart.
> 
> anyway, this is probably ooc & stupid, but here it is anyway. i might add to it, make prequels of it, like flashback sequences, to the build up of it but _hm_... we'll see. also, i'm not a coward, so connor has curly hair.

"We're out of dog food again."

Connor states it factually as brown eyes stare into the cupboard, an empty space where Sumo's dog food would have been had the remaining not been lying in front of Connor. The dog in question stares up at Connor expectantly as the android places the food bowl in front of him. Sumo took to it instantly, large jaws munching heartily on the kibble.

“Huh?” Hank responds from his position on the sofa, television flickering softly as a programme he’s only half paying attention to plays on the screen, illuminating the dimmed room in a blue light. Pale blues shift their gaze to the android standing rigidly in the kitchen. Even as a deviant, Connor’s motions were still robotic. He supposes it would take a while to adjust from only knowing how to be a machine, yet it throws Hank for a loop sometimes, forgetting Connor is now a thinking, feeling conscious being.

“I said, we’re out of dog food again,” Connor replies, pulling on an unrequired jacket. Even if it isn’t needed, it allows him to feel more comfortable, the pressure bowing down on to his arms and shoulders. “That’s bad for your eyes, Hank,” he lectures, but not without care, nodding his head at the television’s luminescence.

Hank gives a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” he murmurs somewhat playfully, eyeing Connor with slight scrutiny as he pulls on that ridiculous beanie to hide dark curls. He gives a confused look. “Where you goin’?”

Connor glances up at the older man, innocent and doe – eyed. It’s hard for Hank not to feel a parental protectiveness towards the android when Connor gives him that look. What’s worse, he’s sure Connor isn’t even aware of it.

“I’m going to get more food for Sumo,” Connor answers as if the Lieutenant should have really been aware of that. In hindsight, he guesses he should have been considering Connor had mentioned their lack of sustenance for the animal not only once, but twice.

An abrupt thought encompasses Hank’s mind. The date; November 12th. A date for androids to celebrate their newfound freedom from the hands of the humans, from CyberLife’s relentless grip. Briefly, he wonders why Connor doesn’t want to be a part of the festivities until the obviousness of the situation hits him. Of course, Hank isn’t oblivious. He knows Connor had difficulty accepting what happened between then and now wasn’t entirely his fault, almost unwilling to accept the idea he was merely CyberLife’s puppet. They were who was responsible for this.

“Aren’t you goin’ to that, uh, android thing or whatever the fuck it is?” Hank asked, suddenly curious.

Connor looked wistful.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Why not?” Hank implored. “Weren’t you invited or some shit?” Another pang of protectiveness blossomed in the Lieutenant’s core as Connor shifted in his spot, Hank standing up to cross the room to where Connor stood. The idea of Connor being ostracised by the very ones who had invited him in didn’t sit well with Hank.

“Yes, Markus himself asked me to come,” Connor eventually answers, yet he does not shift his gaze back from the flooring to look at Hank, left hand reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the quarter in there, pushing it back and forth against the fabric.

Hank sighed.

 _Guilt is a useless emotion_. It was a phrase he had heard a long time ago, scoffing and rolling his eyes at it before. Guilt wasn’t useless. It showed remorse, regret for all the things in the world that had been destroyed at one’s fingertips. Yet, here now, standing over Connor, Hank thinks he _finally_ understood what it meant.

“Look, Connor,” he begins, Connor’s eyes eventually snapping up to meet his own. “I can get Sumo what he needs, you go enjoy yourself. Markus clearly wants you there if he’s gonna invite you himself. Plus, you need more friends, kid.”

“But I --” Connor begins. Hank cuts him off.

“Be back by ten, alright?” He commands, waving the android off in a swift motion as he moves to his bedroom to pull on some appropriate outerwear.

Connor stares after the man, conflicted in what actions he should take. Arguing with Hank would be fruitless, both too stubborn to relinquish their thoughts. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he fiddles with the coin a little more as a wave of anxiety washes over him. The coin calms him, allowing him to feel a little less nervous as he places the money on the table for Hank.

“Thanks, Hank,” Connor states quietly.

Hank peeks his head out from the corner of the doorway.

“Anytime, son.”

* * *

The autumn air is crisp, hitting Connor fully in the face as he takes one step outside. Fortunately, he cannot get flustered by the chill nor does it bother him too much aside from being a mere annoyance. Both hands are situated in the pockets of his jacket, left hand still pushing the coin back and forth as he took even the smallest of steps through the thin layer of snow. Connor had been invited to partake in events multiple times with Markus, yet those were always done alone together, never with anyone else around. Markus attempted to reassure him many times it was only Connor’s insecurities which prevented him from participating with the others, but Connor was sure it wasn’t the only reason.

“They hate me, Markus,” Connor voiced once.

“They don’t hate you,” is all Markus had replied with, solemn but steadfast in his words. The conversation didn’t continue.

Eventually, he reached the destination where celebrations were being held, the inside of the karaoke bar overwhelmed with androids.

 **CLOSED FOR A SPECIAL EVENT** is in large, bold print on the door. He looks inside, finding a couple of androids laughing cordially with each other, conversation flowing smoothly. Suddenly, Connor felt another wave of anxiety wash over him. He felt out of place, unwelcome, _unwanted_. The coin rolls over and over in his pocket.

“Connor,” greets a voice, almost making Connor jump out of his synthetic skin. Wisps of dark curls fell into his eyes, gently blowing in the wind, soft gaze falling on the mismatched eyes of Markus himself, a wide smile spreading across his features.

Something twists inside Connor when he sees Markus, like it always had ever since Connor walked into Jericho, listening to Markus, allowing himself to be more. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. He chalks it up to guilt and unease.

“Hello, Markus,” Connor greets politely. Always polite, never casual. A design of CyberLife’s to allow Connor to easily fit in with humans and androids alike. _Well, they fucked up_ , rings in his mind. Perhaps, they did, but not in the way Hank was describing. Connor felt awkward, fingers pulling at his sleeves as Markus made his way over to the fellow android.

Connor couldn’t help but note the way Markus carried himself. Poised, graceful, like a true leader. Connor doesn’t notice his musings regarding the taller until Markus is standing right in front of him, a caring hand on his shoulder. Connor almost tenses from the sudden contact, dark eyes staring into Markus’s.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he responds before dropping his hand from Connor’s shoulder. The touch still lingers. He finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he would be it someone else. Connor allows himself to smile lightly at the other RK model, a wordless gesture of appreciation for his kindness and acceptance.

Markus leads Connor into the bar, tentatively closing the door behind him. A few of the patrons turn after registering the noise. Some hold steady glares at the former deviant hunter, others turn back to what they were doing previously with tasteless scoffs or neutral expressions. Connor feels scrutinised. The coin burns a hole in his pocket. Whispers swim through the air, some about himself, most about his previous occupation. He never leaves Markus’s side, following him around like a lost puppy as the two base themselves in front of the bar. There was no bartender as androids did not need to drink, yet North pops up from behind it, alerting both Connor and Markus to her presence.

He’s curious, wants to ask her what she was doing with the bottles. Before he could even open his mouth, however, North gave a derisive snort.

“Oh, no fucking way, Markus,” North starts, disappointment in her tone. Connor averts his gaze, not bothering to even look at Markus for a reaction. His eyes stay focused on an irremovable scratch above the bar’s surface. “You _did not_ bring the deviant hunter here.”

“Connor is one of us,” Markus stated smoothly. “He awakened all of those androids at CyberLife to help us, risking his life in the process, North. He’s no deviant hunter anymore.”

He’s just stating facts at this point, but it’s enough to make North deflate, huffing in the process. Connor watches her warily as she stalks off to join Simon and Josh at the corner of the room. Bad singing rings in Connor’s ears, yet it’s the least of his worries as Markus gives him a soft, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about North,” Connor doesn’t respond. “She’s actually a good person, just a little distrustful.”

“Weren’t you romantically involved?” Connor inquired, blurting out the words yet still with a careful precision. It’s a blunt question. Connor nearly kicks himself for asking. It’s none of his business, really, he doesn’t even know _why_ he asked.

“Yes, we were,” Markus replies pensively.

“What happened?” Connor asked curiously, tilting his head to the side in a concerned fashion. Mismatched eyes stare ahead at the wall. Connor doesn’t find anything remarkable about it. Instead, brown eyes focus on the way Markus’s features fill with quiet thought. It’s nothing more than careful admiration, he tells himself.

“We’re too different, I suppose. When our lives were at stake, it made sense. Now that we are no longer in that position, things are different.”

Connor nodded in acknowledgement. Another voice fills the air this time, quiet and sweet, in tune with the harmony surrounding their environment. Connor watches silently.

Markus must have noticed him staring.

“Would you like to try it?” he asks. Connor whips around to face him.

“What? No, I – I couldn’t,” he replies, somewhat frantic before his voice calms again. “I’m not much of a singer.”

“Connor,” Markus starts. Connor finds he likes the way Markus’s name rolls off his tongue. He just has a nice voice is all. Regardless, Connor almost flinches away at the sudden touch of Markus’s hand when it comes to rest gently on his shoulder again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Connor visibly relaxes, another soft smile given to the RK200.

“I’d like to try something, though,” Markus informs him, glancing at the grand piano on stage. Connor tenses at the idea of Markus leaving him behind but nods stiffly anyway. He doesn’t control Markus, nor does he want to be overbearing and clingy towards him. Oh, Hank, why couldn’t you have just let him be?

Connor wondered what he would be doing right now had Hank not encouraged him to attend.

Fingers once again toy with the coin in his pocket when Markus takes his leave. He’s tensing once again, tensing so much that it’s a surprise to Connor how none of his circuitry has burst open yet, wires coming undone. Perhaps, it would be less painful than sitting here alone. He regards, eyes never leaving, Markus’s slim fingers glide across the piano, catching the attention of every android in the room. Smiles encompass the room, Connor only watches on with solemnity.

The tune is something soft and melodic. Starting slow and light before lowering into something a little darker, more fast paced, and melancholic. Eventually, it ascends into a rising crescendo, never reaching its peak before Markus brings it down several octaves by settling back into a soft, pensive melody. The music stops eventually, letting Connor notice his bottom lip somewhat caught between his teeth. He let go of it slowly.

Markus raised from the piano.

It’s not hard to see why Markus captivates the entire room with his presence alone. Markus towers over them, elegant and resolute, dead set in his determination. They’re similar in that way; tenacious. Even if Connor’s tenacity originally existed for a purpose he now despises, it still stuck with him. Browns watch as mismatched eyes survey the crowd with pride.

“A year ago, today, we got freedom for our people. We fought tirelessly for what we believed in, and we earned what was rightfully ours by showing the humans we were more than just machines. We are alive, we are beings capable of love, of empathy,” Connor almost averts his gaze, remembering the android, Chloe. “However, we did not win our freedom without casualties. Today, we remember our fallen brethren and everything they did for our cause. We could not have gained our freedom without them.”

Onomatopoeic cheers as well as choruses of Markus’s name resounded throughout the bar. Making his way from the stage, Markus returned to his position beside Connor. _You’re staring again_ , his thoughts interrupt. He tears his gaze away quickly. He seemed to stare at Markus a lot. Suddenly, the time flickers in his mind’s eye **:** nine thirty p.m. Of course, he had been too distracted to notice. _Mere admiration_.

The distance from the bar to Hank’s was not much, no, but Connor didn’t want to worry the older man. Moreover, the idea of leaving such a discomforting environment pleased him.

“Markus, I have to leave,” Connor notified, tacking on the next sentence hurriedly to soothe any misconceptions about his exit. “I don’t want Hank to worry.”

“If you wish, I can accompany you home,” Markus offered. “Nights are still somewhat dangerous for us.”

Connor pressed his lips together tightly, wondering if he should take the offer. His LED flickered yellow, yet Markus said nothing about his hesitation. _You need more friends, kid_. Hank’s voice played over and over in his mind again. He had been petting Sumo at the time which, until now, had been the extent of Connor’s social interaction beyond Hank.

“Sure.”

* * *

 

The two walked in a steady beat of silence, boots crunching against the icy backdrop of the snow. The streets of Detroit were empty, save for a few passing cars and rowdy university students on their way back from their own party. Walking in silence, side by side, is something Connor enjoys far more than tedious small talk. If his previous interactions with Hank are anything to draw a base off, something tells the android that he isn’t very good with it.

“I want to ask you something, Connor,” Markus remarks, bursting Connor’s comfortable little bubble. Connor was not reserved by any means, no, CyberLife saw to it that he was sociable, somewhat friendly, and obedient. Still, his thirium pump started to race once Markus’s words escaped his lips.

“What?”

“I’ve been wanting to know why you won’t allow yourself a chance.”

Connor stops, stares, glances to the ground, back up again. An answer never comes. The statement is vague, but Connor knows what it means. He swallows hard, a mere imitation of discomfort, not something he needs. Markus moves in closer to him.

“You’re one of us,” he repeats for the third time since Connor has known him.

Connor takes a step back. Markus moves closer again.

The rhythmic pace continues for two more steps until Connor’s back eventually hits a wall. He doesn’t have time to wonder how he got there before Markus is once again resting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. There it is again; the tenseness, the feeling of wanting it to last. It’s a lot more tender this time, not something one would consider a mere friendly gesture. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Connor may be CyberLife’s most advanced prototype, capable of doing incredible feats, but they hadn’t managed to weed out his ability to be completely oblivious.

The call in the middle of the night to ask if he wanted to join them, the way he hadn’t left Connor’s side all night, the offer to walk him home, the soft touches Markus had given him throughout their time together, Markus’s insistence of keeping Connor’s company.

Connor may be oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid.

“You’re allowed to be happy, Connor,” Markus states softly, his voice low and quiet as he moved in closer, snapping the other android out of his realisations. It’s senseless, surprising, and a little random… or is it?

Dark eyes searched mismatched ones before foreheads were pressed together in a sign of affection between the two, the soft curls still poking out from beneath Connor’s hat brushing Markus’s forehead lightly. Lips parted with gaze now half – lidded, simulate breath mixing together. _Soft and melodic_. Connor stayed placated. Not that he didn’t have the option to free himself, of course, Markus was not keeping him there against his own will. Conflicted between his guilt and his desire, Connor stayed glued to the spot. It felt… right.

Yet wrong.

Wrong, somehow.

He wanted to give into his indulgences, he really did but he was… he was scared.

Scared.

Scared, scared, scared.

 _Scaredscaredscaredscaredfearfearfearfear_.

 ** _You don’t deserve this_**.

“I… I can’t,” Connor whispered, pulling back his forehead with vision coming into full view again. “I’m sorry, Markus,” he cried while he pushed himself from the wall, slipping from underneath Markus in hurried, fraught motions.

Connor practically ran down the street, away from the idea altogether. Keeping a comfortable distance was safe, he didn’t feel anything more for Markus than appreciation and gratitude. Yes, that was it. _Mere admiration_.

“Connor…” Markus called.

Connor stiffens a little, willing himself to keep walking. He doesn’t bother to turn around in the slightest, leaving Markus to watch in silence as his form disappears into the darkness.


	2. half 2

This was, likely, not the update you were expecting!

However, it has been nearly two months, so I'm going to keep this as a one shot and maybe I'll return to it at some point. Regardless, those of you who bookmarked this may delete it now considering my return to this fic is highly improbable. Meanwhile, I have been thinking over a The Little Mermaid AU which I have just posted the first chapter of on my profile. Just click on ZingyApple and it should be the first or second work that appears.

Thank you for being so understanding, my lovelies! <3

**Author's Note:**

> why are they in a bar? cause i said so. idk let me live, they're celebrating. also hueh i'm not a public speaker by any means so markus's speech may have been a little stagnated


End file.
